


Team

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Boypussy, Gangbang, M/M, Porn, Somnophilia, all the porn, cross-dressing, glee kink meme, the porniest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boypussy fic where Kurt never quits the football team and keeps the team close and successful because of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soda Pop

**Author's Note:**

> This is just really gratuitous and unthoughtful porn, but I really enjoyed writing it in spewy little bits as more of this AU came to me, with pairings I've never attempted before. So, like, read with a grain of salt.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/40066.html?thread=53610626#t53610626) on the Glee Kink Meme: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Kurt never quits the football team. Instead he becomes the team's beloved fucktoy (and kicker) with his hungry pussy and his dainty, pretty cock._
> 
>  
> 
> _He loves the feeling of being so casually used in the locker room and at parties. He gets passed around from dick to dick while the guys drink or play video games or get ready for practice. One of them just has to say, "Hummel, come here" and Kurt will sit on their cock or maybe straddle a bench so a couple can take turns fucking him from behind while he sucks off a third._
> 
>  
> 
> _Finn and Dave especially like to use him, and Dave goes a little crazy when Kurt lounges around the weight room in just Dave's jersey, no pants, because he'd just be constantly taking them off. By the end of any and every team gathering, Kurt's pussy is just a swollen mess of come, his tiny dick stiff and pointing out from his body._
> 
>  
> 
> _When Sam joins the team he falls a little in love with Kurt, and will exercise his right as quarterback and take Kurt the most, pushed up against his locker, rub Kurt's penis with his finger and thumb while he blows his loads in Kurt's used little pussy. Sometimes he'll make Kurt lay on his back on a bench, lift Kurt's thighs over his own and just watch his dick, wet and sheathed, touch and examine Kurt's pussy lips stretched around him, experiment with ways he can make Kurt squirm._
> 
>  
> 
> _Kurt is the secret the entire football team keeps and cherishes, everyone is in on it and it brings them really close together, helps them become state champions. Meanwhile Kurt is adorable and tarty and lust-crazy for it. OOC, but hey. Hot._

Dave sticks his head into the Hudson storage room and sees Finn still going at it, his pale ass flexing dimples as he pumps into Kurt. Dave can just see part of Kurt’s blissed out face, smushed against the broken patio lounger Finn had hastily set up among the stacked cardboard boxes.

"Man, hurry up!" Dave tells Finn.

“Wha- yeah Karofsky, cause you telling me to is going to help with that,” Finn grunts, turning back to his work.

“Fuck,” Dave curses, and shuts the door again.

Finn’s mom keeps coming down to the wood-paneled basement, offering up sodas and snacks and giggling when the guys let her feel their biceps. No one’s really upset because Finn’s mom is pretty cool and will let them party at Finn’s house when she goes away with her boyfriend on the weekends.

But it means they have Kurt in the back storage room, and the guys have to take turns with him, and Dave called him after Finn but Finn is taking for-fucking-ever and Dave's going to split his pants he's so hot for a little Hummel ass.

Denny and Sam have already had their turn and he tries to watch them play Gears of War but fuck, it’s been like, three days and he’s hurtin’ for that Hummel squirtin’.

The storage room door finally opens again and Finn comes out, doing up his pants.

“K, all yours.”

“‘Finally,” Dave mutters, absently returning Finn’s high five by reflex on his way into the storage room.

Kurt is naked on the lounge chair and he smiles sleepily when Dave comes in, stretches and bites his lip and eyes Dave's tented cargo shorts. Kurt sometimes calls him “big guy”, and Dave knows why. He rubs his boner through his shorts and shuffles around some boxes to Kurt’s head.

“Give me a kiss,” he says quietly. Yeah it sucks that they have to take turns, but Dave doesn’t mind it so much when he can be alone with Kurt. Means he can be a little more thorough and not get razzed about it. He’s not a fag or anything, he just likes Kurt’s mouth, okay?

Kurt smirks up at him, touches Dave’s cheek. “Go get me a soda and I’ll give you all the kisses you want.”

“Damnit, Hummel,” Dave says, but dutifully shuffles back out again.

“Diet!” Kurt calls after him.

“He's got you _whipped_ , Karofsky,” Denny snorts, not looking away from the game. Dave gives him the finger, grabs a Diet Coke and a root beer from the dented Corona bucket full of ice and soda Finn’s mom had brought down for them.

Back in the dim storage room and he hands the Diet Coke to Kurt, says, “Here.” 

Watches Kurt as he sits up, legs still spread, spine curved in like a strung crossbow as he takes long, throat-shifting gulps. Pale-skinned and pretty, his cunt pink and wet, staring at Dave from the shadow of Kurt’s thighs.

“Give me yours,” Kurt tells him, and Dave hands him the root beer too without thinking.

Kurt presses the cold can to his pussy and muffles his squeal by biting two fingers. “Oh! That’s nice,” he purrs with a shiver. 

Dave nearly topples a stack of boxes marked “Christmas Decorations” in his rush to get at Kurt’s mouth. Kurt lets Dave kiss him, tongue and everything, crosses his wrists behind Dave’s head. Dave braces his weight on the lounger with one hand, uses the other to gently touch Kurt’s neck, soft under his knuckles.

When Kurt hands the can back it smells like Kurt and what they do to him, the condensation on the can smeared with come on one side. Dave puts it on the concrete floor and starts undoing his shorts.

“Mmmm, big guy,” Kurt murmurs, and he licks his lips when Dave jerks his boner, leans back and spreads so wide that his calves hook over the arms of the lounge chair.

Dave kneels up between his legs, gets his dick in that messy pink pussy in no time. Kurt’s pussy hole stretches round and tight over the head of his dick, sucks at it when Dave starts rocking in and out of him. 

Dave is too big, can’t get his whole penis in without hitting something deep that makes Kurt wince when Dave jacks into him hard. He can do it when he fucks Kurt’s asshole, which is tighter and rougher and yeah, Dave can get in all the way to his balls, lifting one of Kurt’s legs while Finn fucks his pussy on the other side. 

This feels good though, Kurt’s pussy hole mouthing around his big cock, Kurt’s little dick all pink and bouncing with Dave’s thrusts. Dave pushes down on it with his thumb, rubs the little nub of it against the taut skin above Kurt’s pussy.

“Oh! Mmm,” Kurt responds, pulls his thighs farther apart so they’re almost a straight line over Dave’s dick slotting into his pussy hole. The sight makes Dave grunt harder, his hips pistoning, his breath panting.

Dave creams him deep, collapsed over Kurt’s chest, lips on his collarbone. Stays in Kurt for a few moments before pulling out and shakily painting his dick all over Kurt’s pussy lips, down to the pucker of his asshole, everywhere, messy and wet. Kurt lifts his hips to the touch, head back, eyes closed, hands holding the back of the lounge chair.

“Kiss me,” Dave says again, and Kurt opens his eyes, shrugs one shoulder, and reaches for Dave’s arms to draw him up.


	2. Not Upset

Post-practice and the locker room is steamy and full of shouting, half-dressed dudes. Finn waits until Sam is done fucking Kurt from behind at the row of sinks and approaches the naked boy while he’s dabbing something over his forehead and nose. 

“Gimme a minute, Finn, I’m moisturizing,” Kurt tells him, dropping a fancy little tube into his fancy gold toiletry kit and pulling out yet another fancy little bottle.

“Naw, I wasn’t...I mean, I gotta talk to you.” 

Kurt frowns at him through the mirror. “Is everything alright? You look gassy. Is this about our par-”

“No,” Finn says quickly. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay...,” Kurt says, making a motion for Finn to get on with it. 

Finn takes a breath. “I’m going out with Rachel.”

Kurt squints at him and then laughs. “Gee, I was wondering about that, what with the leash you’re connected to her by.”

Finn scowls. “I am not.”

“You are too. But why are you telling me sad facts I already know?”

“Cause, like, we’re going out, and I, I want to be faithful to her.” 

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Kurt smiles, and rubs some hair product between his fingers and then starts plucking it through his hair like lobster claws. His face is relaxed but intent, like Finn isn’t still talking to him.

“That’s it?” Finn asks him. Kurt stops and turns around to look at him straight on.

“Um, yes? Good for you, Finn. I am sure Rachel will start putting out sometime this decade.” Kurt snorts at his own joke and goes back to messing with his hair.

Finn starts to say, _You’re not upset?_ but Kurt definitely doesn’t look it and Puck is yelling at him from his locker.

“Hummel! Get that ass over here!”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but rinses off his hands, dries them, and then struts unhurried over to Puckerman, his naked hips swinging. 

Puck sits on a bench and opens the towel around his waist, his cock stiff and the hair around his balls still damp. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come and take a ride,” he sing-songs to Kurt, making grabby fingers. Kurt laughs and easily straddles Puck’s lap, uses one hand to guide Puck’s cock into his pussy. Puck grips Kurt by his asscheeks, and starts bouncing him up and down, and Kurt laughs again, arms going around Puck’s neck. 

Finn goes back to his locker. He needs to get dressed since he promised Rachel he’d take her to the craft store after practice for bristol board and glitter. She wants him to make his own inspiration board. Finn has seldom felt dread like this.

Finn looks back at Puck and Kurt again. Puck is rocking the bench he’s on, driving his cock up into Kurt, and Kurt is smiling, has his head tipped back so Puck can nip and growl at his throat, making Puckzilla noises. 

After the craft store, Rachel wants to go shoe shopping. 

Finn sighs, grabs his bag, and Puck’s obnoxious orgasm yelps chase him out of the locker room.


	3. Midnight Snack

Finn waits until his Mom and Burt are in bed for the night, the TV in their room quiet. Once he’s sure that everyone is asleep, he tiptoes across the hall to Kurt’s room.

Kurt will lounge around the house in hoity-toity silk pajamas and his wine-colored ‘smoking jacket’ (Kurt doesn’t smoke) but as he once airily explained to Finn, his skin needs to breathe at night, so he sleeps in the buff.

There is just enough light from the streetlight outside to see that Kurt is laying on his front, one hand up by his face on the pillow, breathing softly in his sleep. The really nice soft sheets he has on his bed are bunched down, so his naked back is exposed, pale in the dimness. 

Finn quietly closes Kurt’s door behind him. Finn himself sleeps in just his boxer shorts, so he drops those and steps out of them. 

Pulling the sheet down is like playing a game of Operation; slow little twitches, constantly checking Kurt’s face to make sure he’s still asleep. When Finn finally gets it down, one of Kurt’s legs is bent, his knee up like a flamingo, the space between his legs dark with shadow.

Finn’s boner is aching. Has been since he accidentally brushed Rachel’s boob when he helped her put her coat on. For a whole week now his own private hell has been taking Rachel out on dates and getting tons of make-out practice but no real...satisfaction. His right hand his clawed and sore from jacking off so much. 

And what makes it all worse is watching the rest of the guys on the team fuck Kurt whenever they want, with no respect for the sacrifice and self-control Finn is practicing. Just that afternoon Sam and Decker tag-teamed Kurt beside the free-weights while Finn was working on his triceps. He felt like a starving man watching two people share a hot fudge sundae. One of Finn’s favorite things is to screw Kurt from behind, hands on his round ass, Kurt’s wet pussy making little slick, squishy sounds, just like Decker was doing. When Decker sucked a finger and stuck it in Kurt’s ass, making Kurt squeak around Sam’s cock in his mouth, Finn almost threw down the 25 pounder weights in frustration.

Finn isn’t all that surprised with himself that he’s breaking his vow of being completely faithful to Rachel. He obviously didn’t understand what it would really mean. So he doesn’t feel as guilty as maybe he should when he climbs up onto Kurt’s bed and gently, slowly, parts Kurt’s legs, pushing his knees up and out. 

He likes it like this, at night, Kurt all to himself, loose and relaxed and still. Finn softly feels up into Kurt’s crotch; soft pussy lips and hot slickness in between. Kurt twitches and Finn freezes, the tips of two fingers dipped into Kurt’s hole. 

He only really has one chance, one slide in where Kurt isn’t squeezing or thrusting back, where he’s just warm and fleshy and limp in sleep.

Finn carefully climbs up the bed, trying to brace his weight without jostling Kurt. He uses his hips to aim his boner at Kurt’s pussy, just the tip touching it. Then he slides in, hot and slippery, groaning into his own shoulder. 

“Oh!” Kurt blinks awake, half pushing himself up before he recognizes Finn’s weight behind him. Then he chuckles, stretching his arms out to the headboard and tilting his ass back and up, meeting Finn’s cock jerking in and out of his hole. 

“Don’t say it,” Finn huffs down at him.

Kurt ignores him, says, “I knew you’d be back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn rolls his eyes. Of course he’s back. Is there anything hotter than Kurt’s ready, wet pussy? Maybe Rachel’s; he’ll probably never know. 

He fucks Kurt like the deprived man he is, rough and quick and probably a little too loud for safety. Turns Kurt on his side and straddles one leg, pushes the other one out of the way so he can rock into Kurt’s bare slit. After a week of jerking-off gruel, it’s roast beef dinner.

Kurt likes it too, he can tell, rubs his own dick with the palm of his hand, his fingers brushing Finn’s cock where it sinks into Kurt’s hole. Shudders and whimpers almost silently, little spurts of come making his penis jerk and flip like the end of a fire hose.

Finn pulls out, comes all over his pussy, gets Kurt’s nice sheets dirty. Wrings it out of himself white and thick on Kurt’s pink hole. Puts his softening dick back in Kurt’s pussy for a couple of more strokes, drawing out his orgasm. 

When he’s done, sitting back on his knees, he watches as Kurt peers down his chest, touches the globs of cum around his pussy and smiles.

“Miss me?” Kurt whispers. 

“Yeah,” Finn mutters. He can’t look away from where Kurt is rubbing Finn’s come into his pussy. Making it even more wet, shining in the dim light. Kurt drags his hand up his abdomen, wiping the worst of the mess off his fingers. Then he turns back into his pillow and yawns. 

“Come back in the morning,” he murmurs, and closes his eyes, already half-asleep.

Finn covers Kurt’s ass back up with the sheet and hooks his boxer shorts off the floor on the way back to his room. He’ll be back to wake Kurt up again in a couple of hours.


	4. Hot Pretzel

On their way to the second game of states and they’ve been crammed on a coach bus for three hours, three more to go after lunch at the prestigious Dayton Mall food court.

Sam gets a burger meal, passes Kurt on his way back to the tables the team claimed by the fountain. Kurt is standing, hip cocked, between the Annie’s Pretzels and a frozen yogurt place. 

“Why are you even pretending you’re not going to get both?” Sam teases him. 

Kurt grins. “Just deciding which one to get first.”

Coach Beiste had made it clear that everyone wears their letterman jacket on game days, and at the time, Sam had been pleasantly surprised by Kurt’s lack of argument. Now he knows he should have been suspicious.

Kurt had worked some of his sewing magic to make his jacket fit a lot tighter, more like a racing jacket. Then he put biker studs on the shoulders, a vintage american flag patch on the back, and replaced the white ‘M’ on his chest with a gold one. He looks cool, with his custom jacket and his tight jeans and his red & black hightops. Definitely too cool for the Dayton Mall food court. 

Sam is just swallowing his first onion ring when he hears it. A loud clatter, unmistakably a tray being knocked to the ground. 

“Watch it, faggot.” 

Kurt is looking down at the remains of his lunch on the floor, four guys their age in various Affliction hoodies slowly walking past him, shoulders bumping Kurt’s, knocking him one way then the other. 

Kurt keeps his head down, triangles of red on his cheeks, doesn’t say anything. Maybe doesn’t want to cause a scene, make it worse. 

“...the fuck?” Puck is saying, a fry falling out of his outraged mouth. 

“Let’s go,” Sam tells the little fixed-seat, four-person table he’s at; Puck, Finn, Dave. Finn is already standing, his nostrils flaring. Four on four and this shouldn’t take too long.

Sam ignores Coach Beiste’s growl for them to “siddown!” and darts through tables like it’s a defensive drill, fast and low. Grabs the biggest guy, the one who had knocked Kurt first, swings him around. 

“What the hell was that? You better apologize right now or there is going to be trouble.”

The guy, who has an admittedly impressive goatee for a high school kid, sneers, looks around at all the football players in red jackets surrounding them, the rest of the food court going quiet. The Katy Perry playing over the mall speakers seems extra loud, and for a second it feels like fighting in glee club. 

“Oh, sorry, this your head cheerleader or something?” he laughs. 

“No, he’s our star kicker, and you owe him a new frozen yogurt,” Mike tells the guy, pushing Kurt behind himself, Kurt looking more uncomfortable than Sam’s ever seen him, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something too.

“I don’t owe that clumsy fag shit. And hey, good luck at the Special Olympics, losers.”

“That’s it,” Sam spits, and glances over to make sure Puck, Finn and Dave are with him. Puck is smiling and punching his fist into his palm like an old timey hoodlum, and Finn is practically snarling, looking ready to go on a headbutting spree. But no Dave; it’s Mike who’s filling out the four fighters, the rest of the team a red wash behind them. 

Goatee douchebag just smiles, but his three sidekick douchebags are looking properly nervous, like any reasonable guy would, facing down an entire football team competing in the state championships.

“Don’t even think about it, Evans.”

Oh yeah, and facing down Coach Beiste.

She situates herself on the invisible line between them and the assholes, her normally jolly bulk menacing. 

“You cowboys better scram before you get locked up by mall security and your mothers have to come bail you out,” she tells the jerks. Goatee looks like he’s going to argue, but Coach just raises the whistle around her neck and blows three sharp blasts right in the guy’s face. 

He jumps, so shocked and confused that he lets his sidekicks pull him away, back into the mall. 

Coach Beiste turns around, addresses the whole team, but is looking at Sam. “The rest of you got twenty minutes before we’re hitting the road. Anyone goes picking a fight in that time and you’re out for the next three games.” 

“But-” Sam starts to say. 

“Cool it, Evans; I saw what happened. Use your head, son. We need our captain, and Hummel can take care of himself. Ain’t that right, can-can?” she puts an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, knuckle-rubs his hair. Kurt looks at Sam like this time he really could use a rescue, but goes with Coach Beiste to get a fresh lunch.

The food court gradually resettles into a wall of water noise and music and chatter, but the Titans still get a lot of stares.

“Man, you think we’d get a little more respect.” Finn sits slowly, still looking off towards where the douchebags disappeared. 

“It’s like they can still smell the show choir on us,” Puck says, shrugging.

Dave snorts around his taco. He has five more of them on his tray. 

“What are you laughing at, Karofsky? And where the hell were you?” Sam says, still jazzed up, too itchy to eat. 

Dave grunts, swallows. “What? I was there. We all were.” 

“Right,” Sam says.

“ _What_ , Evans? Jesus. Don’t act so surprised. It’s not like he wasn’t asking for it.” 

Sam turns very carefully, so he’s fully facing Dave. “Are you saying that Kurt was _asking_ to get harassed by those jerkoffs?” 

“Um, are you saying he’s _not_ dressed like a, a f-”

“ _Don’t_ say it,” Finn barks, slapping a hand down on the table.

Dave scowls, drops his taco. Looks like a badger, the way he’s curling in on himself, all aggressively defensive. 

“Whatever you guys, it’s going to happen-” 

“No!” Sam hisses. “It never has to happen. Fuck’s sake, Dave. For one thing, Kurt could wear a Tatooine slave costume if he wanted to and should never have to worry about getting beat up for it. He’s not asking for it by being himself. Also, he’s team. Which means you don’t get to question helping him out. Kurt would go to bat for you, for all of us, anytime, anywhere. Don’t forget that next time.”

“He could wear a what?” Puck asks, looking intrigued.

Dave doesn’t look like any of what Sam said is sinking in, so Sam sighs and picks up his tray. 

“Tell Coach I’m going back to the bus.”

***

“Hey.”

Sam looks up from his comic book to find a paper-wrapped pretzel in his face. Guys are starting to load back on the bus, and there is a football being tossed around the seated guys. 

“I saw you dump most of your lunch, so I got you this,” Kurt says. Sam takes it so Kurt can shrug out of his jacket, stow his messenger bag and sit down. 

“Um, thanks. I am actually kind of hungry now.” 

Kurt smiles. “Thought you might be.”

Sam takes a bite of the hot pretzel, watches as Kurt meticulously wipes the fingerprints off of his iPad, taps the screen to open up his digital book. 

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask. 

Kurt rolls his eyes, not looking at Sam. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Prince Charming.” 

“You know, Disney princes aren’t the only heros out there. I prefer Jedi Master.” 

“Hero, huh? Okay, Obi Come Shaloopie or whatever. Thanks for trying to beat up some ignorant suburban-trash homophobes in my honor,” Kurt scoffs. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, come on, Kurt.”

Kurt blinks at him. “Sam.” 

“Luke was a Jedi too. I prefer Luke Skywalker.” 

Kurt laughs, leans over, kisses his cheek. “What can I do for you in exchange for a Star Wars reference-free trip?”

“Seriously?” Sam asks. 

Kurt looks over the seat to the head of the bus. Coach Beiste is standing up, mouthing out a silent headcount of the loud, refueled team. It’s Shane and Dave in the seats in front of them, Puck and Finn across the aisle. Kurt shrugs, raises a mischievous eyebrow. 

“Are you wearing them?” Sam asks quietly. 

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt hums. “White. Red hearts. Team colors, right?” 

“I wanna see,” Sam says. 

Kurt puts his iPad away and starts undoing his belt buckle and Sam half shouts across the seat to Finn. 

“Finn! Finn Hudson!”

Finn looks over and Sam points two fingers to his eyes, then to the front of the bus, the signal for Finn to be a lookout. Finn licks his lips and nods, even though his eyes are on Kurt, who is shimmying down his open jeans. 

Sure enough, there are the panties, in all their team-supporting glory. White and thin and fancy looking, with tiny red hearts that stretch over Kurt’s little bulge. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sam mutters, can’t help snapping the thin strap of them over Kurt’s hip while Kurt finishes pushing his jeans down, taking his socks and sneakers with them. 

Kurt smirks, brings his heels up on the seat, legs spread, so that the thin thong strip of fabric curves damp over the shape of his pussy.

The bus lurches just as Sam reaches over to touch, and he glances to the front. From what he can see, Coach Beiste is back in her seat and the front half of the bus is rowdy enough to keep her and the chaperones occupied. 

“C’mon,” he mutters, shuffling up and pushing Kurt onto his back across the seats, his head by the window. Wraps Kurt’s legs around his waist so that they aren’t hanging suspiciously naked out in the aisle. 

Kurt goes, relaxed, his head pillowed on Sam’s jacket. Wraps his arms around Sam’s neck and lets Sam dig his own cock out of his fly. Hums a little into Sam’s temple when Sam looks down to hook the crotch of Kurt’s panties over, expose his slippery pussy, give Sam just enough room to nudge his cock in.

It’s both delicious and tortuous, the way Kurt’s panties rub against his dick, harsh friction combined with the hot, smooth, tight slide of Kurt’s pussy hole. Sam ends up holding them all the way aside with one thumb, probably ruining the fabric, but loving the damp stretch of it around his thumb, the rest of his fingers grabbing Kurt’s ass.

He kisses Kurt’s neck, his jaw, his lips. Breathes hard and fast into his mouth, Kurt panting too, rocking his pussy up to Sam’s quick thrusts. Pushes as far into Kurt as he can when he comes, makes sure that his come is going to be in Kurt the longest, fill him up the most. 

When he pulls out, he gently fixes Kurt’s panties, smooths the wet fabric over Kurt’s mound, over his hard little penis.

“Thanks, Sam.” He has to bend a little to hear Kurt over the noise of the bus. “But they’ll probably come completely off in a few minutes.” 

“They look good,” Sam tells him, and Kurt looks pleased. He urges Sam a little closer with his thighs still around Sam’s hips, and doesn’t even raise his head as he puts Sam back into his briefs with equal care, gently zips his fly.

Finn is already tapping on his shoulder, ready for his turn. Kurt pulls Sam’s comic book and the last half of his pretzel from the seat pocket beside his head and hands them to Sam before Sam switches seats. Sam shakes his head at how thoughtful Kurt can still be, and snaps his panties again in parting. 

“Oh!” Kurt tries to slap at his hand, misses, and gives him a playful kick with his bare foot instead. 

Sam reluctantly switches with Finn and starts his lookout duties.


	5. Room Service

They enter state with a 15-1 season record and take the final game in the last half, scoring 18 unanswered points to clinch the victory. Sam completes 32 out of 39 passes and lands MVP, scouts from Ohio State sitting above his family, some more from Michigan on the 50 yard line. 

Despite the crowded stands, Sam still falls to his knees in the middle of the team dogpile, tears of relief and leg-numbing joy running through the grease lines under his eyes. In the scrummy, yelling mess he gets an arm hooked around Finn’s neck, his other around Kurt’s thigh and he just holds on, blinking and grinning. 

After shaking hands with the opposing team, and all the on-field photographs, and Coach Beiste being a good sport and taking her ice-water dousing, adrenaline keeps him going through the post-game pizza party. He hardly eats a thing, since everyone wants to shake Sam’s hand, congratulate him and slap his back. Even dads of the other guys want to pose with him holding the game ball, cocked in a fake pass over his shoulder. Facebook will be littered with copies of his overwhelmed too-toothy smile.

He does his best Peyton Manning impression for an interview with the local Channel 4 news crew and Kurt stands behind the guy with a camera on his shoulder, rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh. The pretty blonde TV woman who asks him the questions and holds the mic to his mouth promises to send a recording to the school. It’s going up on Sam’s YouTube channel for sure.

Around ten they ditch the parents and teachers who traveled out and it’s just the team and assorted girlfriends that also made the trip who gather in Sam & Kurt’s motel room. Amizio’s big brother boots them a couple flats of Bud Light and Puck reveals that his second duffle bag is just liquor and Solo cups.

It’s late, late enough to be early before it’s just team left in the room. Maybe a dozen guys, everyone on the backside of drunk, where words and blinking become too much of an effort. Sprawled out on the floor, the beds, Finn with his head and shoulders in the bathroom, the rest of his big bulk laid out on the carpet, surrounded by beer cans pierced with shotgun holes.

Sam feels good, satisfied with their performance and their celebration. Ready for some sleep and then the long bus ride home, Kurt’s shoulder pressed against his. Which reminds Sam; he’d seen Kurt doing shots off of some cheerleaders and had made a mental note to make sure Kurt doesn’t choke on his own vomit if he passes out because of it. 

Sam hauls himself off the floor and sees Kurt up on the other bed, shorts gone, shirt too. Kurt’s eyes are closed, and he’s tucked up on his knees, head pillowed in his own arms, Puck behind him, drunkenly trying to poke his dick in Kurt’s pussy.

Aside from the high red in his cheeks, Kurt doesn’t look any worse for wear for the tequila, so Sam drops his shorts too and eases himself onto the bed. Kurt opens his eyes as the bed shifts and smiles when he sees Sam.

Sam slouches down the headboard, legs straddling Kurt’s body, until his crotch is right in Kurt’s face. Kurt noses into the cotton of his boxer briefs, mouth to the weight of Sam’s balls. Slowly, gently feels the line of Sam’s cock with his fingertips, as though Kurt was blindfolded. Sam lifts his hips a little into the touch, then finds the energy to tug his underwear down, hook it under his balls.

Kurt sucks Sam’s half-hard cock into his mouth right away, like it’s a treat that someone else might snatch up if he doesn’t. Laves at it hungry and happy as Puck gets his shit together and Kurt’s whole body starts rocking with his thrusts. 

Even with his cock getting pushed down Kurt’s throat and Kurt’s pretty face smushed into his crotch, Sam is way too drunk to come. So he just slumps and enjoys it, one hand in Kurt’s hair, watching the other guys through drowsing eyelids. 

Puck comes like he always does, loud and mightily, leaning back, hands spreading Kurt’s asscheeks wide, getting off on the sight of his own dick in a pussy, because he’s Puck. 

Before the game, Sam had seen Dave talking to Kurt, their size differences pronounced in a corner of the tiny Away Team locker room. He hadn’t heard what Kurt said, but it had ended with a hug and a kiss to Dave’s cheek and Dave the most vicious linebacker on the field that afternoon.

Dave doesn’t stick his cock into Kurt right away, even though he’s hard and huge curving out of his fly. In any unspoken locker room shower contest, Dave is always the uncontested winner. Enormously wide and long, his cock bumps Kurt’s ass while his hand is busy between Kurt’s legs, fingering him or maybe tugging his penis from the way Kurt hums around Sam’s dick, his hips bobbing to the rhythm of whatever Dave is doing to him. 

Dave had been drinking like all of them, and his hand that Sam can see is gentle on Kurt’s hip, fingers stroking his skin. Dave’s eyes are soft too, watching Kurt’s head in Sam’s lap with the yearning he can’t hide when he’s drunk.

Kurt gasps, his mouth coming up, and his nails digging into Sam’s thigh like a surprised cat. 

“Ooooh,” he moans, his drool-wet lips open, tongue touching the bottom one. His eyes squeeze tight, and he shudders against Sam, spine bending his ass into Dave’s busy touch. 

When Kurt slumps against his leg, claws retracted, Sam tries to slide out from under him, let someone else take his place while Dave finally fucks into Kurt.

But Kurt doesn’t let him, wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and digs his forhead into Sam’s thigh, like he’s burrowing into a pillow. Sam chuckles and puts his hand back into Kurt’s hair, closes his eyes. This is as good a place as any to pass out. 

He wakes up what feels like just minutes later, Decker shaking his shoulder. 

“Hey man, shove over, eh? We wanna double-p that puss-ay,” he tells Sam, grinning. 

Kurt’s arm is still around Sam’s waist, and his eyes are half-open and unseeing, more pleasure drunk than tequila drunk now. At some point Kurt had stretched right onto his belly, his naked legs spread-eagle across the double bed. His ass is painted in layered stripes of jizz, Adams and Taylor jacking off on either side of his hips while they wait for Denny to finish coming all over the mess. 

Sam clears his throat, leans over to look at the red-lit bedside clock. 

“Dude, it’s like, four in the morning. Give him a break.” 

“Just cause you can’t keep up doesn’t mean the rest of us are gonna quit partying, Evans,” Decker says reasonably, and starts pulling Kurt away, like he’s lifting a sleeping child up. Kurt makes a little noise that only Sam can feel, and tightens his hold on Sam’s waist.

“Nope,” Sam says, and puts his hand on Decker’s arm in warning. Decker frowns. 

“What the hell, Cap?”

Sam just pushes Decker’s hands away, puts a palm to Kurt’s cheek. 

“Hey. Hey, Kurt. You good?” he asks.

Kurt rolls a little, blinks up at Sam. While Sam is waiting for an answer, Taylor lifts one of Kurt’s legs and rubs his dick up the seam of Kurt’s pussy, clotted and white with come. Kurt closes his eyes with a half-smile and shrugs.

“See? Kurt’s a fucking party animal,” Decker says, looking smug. 

Sam’s seen, heck, he’s _felt_ how much Kurt loves two dicks at a time in his pussy. Kurt’ll happily sit on Finn’s cock and then lean forward for Sam to fit behind him, guide Sam into the slippery stretch of him, and it’s tight and weird and really, really hot, filling Kurt up so much. Feeling Finn move and Kurt move and the both of them reacting to his own pushes. The best is just holding still and letting Kurt slide up and down them both, clenching their cocks and making little squirrel noises. 

But it’s late and he’s tired and Kurt is too, he can tell, and it’s their room and he still hasn’t had the chance to just sit and recover from the most crazy day of his life. 

“Naw. Show’s over. Everyone out!” 

Sam throws his captain weight around a little, bullying the guys back into their clothes and out into the hall. He gently kicks Finn awake so Kurt can have the bathroom and ends up having to walk Finn back to his room, the big dude still blindingly drunk, tile marks on his face. 

He dumps Finn on his bed and gets a glass of bathroom tap water down him. Listens to Finn’s slurring and awed play-by-play of the last touchdown he scored, lets Finn give him a sloppy one-armed hug from the bed. 

Back in their room and Kurt has pushed all of the messed-up covers from his bed to the floor, and is curled up under a single sheet.

“Aw jeez, come on, Kurt,” Sam sighs. He pulls Kurt into his own relatively clean bed, stuffs him under the blankets. Kurt goes, humming happily, his wet hair tickling Sam’s nose when he backs himself up into the curl of Sam’s arm. 

“It was a good game, huh?” Sam asks Kurt after he turns out the bedside lamp, settles into the dark.

“The best,” Kurt murmurs. 

“Michigan was there. Two scouts.” 

“‘s that where you want to go?” Kurt whispers. 

“I dunno. Where do you want to go?”

Kurt rolls, his leg coming to rest over Sam’s. “I’m going to New York, Sam. I told you.”

“Yeah, but you’re the best kicker in Ohio. You could get a free ride at pretty much any NCAA school in the country.” 

Sam can hear the _brush-brush_ as Kurt shakes his head against the pillow. “So can you.” 

Sam frowns, tries to think of a way to press his case, but Kurt’s hand squirms under the sheets, cups Sam’s junk through his boxer briefs.

“Are you going to fuck me before we go?” Kurt asks, rolling his fingers. Sam doesn’t ask if he means before they go back to Lima in the morning, or before they go their separate ways, Kurt to New York, Sam senior year.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes. 

“Good,” Kurt whispers, and lets go with a soft squeeze, nestling in for sleep.


End file.
